


Self Indulgence

by MasterSammeh



Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Eating Disorders, Eventual Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Multi, Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Relationship(s), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, Self Harm, Slow Burn, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-05
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2019-05-02 08:33:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 20,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14540826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MasterSammeh/pseuds/MasterSammeh
Summary: Tord has lived through many things to become the Red Leader, but when his past traumas begin to catch up to him, Paul and Patryk make the executive decision to send him away to a place where he can finally feel safe. But with Tord's secrecy, Edd's snoopiness, and Tom's animosity, things aren't going to go perfectly as planned.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is very near and dear to my heart for a lot of reasons, and because of this, the premise is very dark. It will have extreme and/or triggering content, but I will do my best to mark triggering content before each chapter.  
> TW: Medical terminology, needles, hospitals, referenced suicide, alcohol, disordered eating  
> Such as the above. That being said, it is a recovery fic for all of the characters, and it will have a happy ending, even if the road is long.

“You're going to die if you keep doing this.”  
Tord looked up at his subordinate, squinting against the white hospital lights. “That is kind of the plan.” He replied in a deadpan, arm loosely clutched against his body. Almost as if he could keep Patryk from seeing it, as if he would forget that he had found Tord like this in the first place and leave him alone. It didn’t work.  
“What happened to raising hell? To making the world yours?” Patryk gave him a sour look, one that spoke volumes of his disappointment in Tord. It vaguely reminded the Norsk of a mother scolding her child.  
With a sigh, Tord looked at the butterfly needle sticking out of his arm, trying to get some emotion to process in his brain. He hated needles, but there was no reaction. “I do not know.”  
“Tord,” the Norsk winced, but Patryk continued, “I'm not going to stand by while you do this, we're gonna make you better.”  
“I won't let you. I deserve this.” His voice cracked with misuse, and he felt the bone weariness that sat in his body. This time he was close, he would have died with just a little more time. Another hour or two and they couldn't have saved him from slipping away finally. He hated Paul for bursting in after he hadn't answered the frantic questions yet again.  
They'd had this conversation many times before, and usually they would argue for hours and Tord would win because he was the Red Leader, and arguing with the (hopeful) future ruler of the world wasn’t always the best idea. Today, Pat just inhaled deeply and turned away, “Get some rest, Paul and I are just outside if you need anything.”  
With a click, he was gone and Tord was alone in the blank room. A hollow feeling sat in his chest, slowly bleeding out black into his body. Why couldn't this be easier?  
With the aid of an IV drip and sedatives, he was back up on his feet a few days later. He made his rounds with practiced ease, walking down the halls of his bunker and attending his duties as commander of the Red Army, with either Paul or Patryk always by his side. They watched him like a hawk, so he couldn't dump his meals in a trash bin, and he couldn't press his cigars into his skin to burn them out. He couldn't do anything, really.  
They took his place in meetings as well, and though he sensed their insubordination, he couldn’t care less.  
This continued on for a few weeks, the itching observance that made him grit his teeth with annoyance, until one day he found himself in the war room with his two subordinates, his caretakers, both seated by his side. He stared blankly as Patryk pulled out files and pictures of things that the Norsk didn't process, Paul had his hand softly resting on his leader’s arm, squeezing the now healthy flesh in reassurance.  
“You're done, Tord. No more army until you are better.”  
When this fell on him, he glowered at them, “You can not take my army from me.” The anger apparent on the small man’s face was almost comforting to Paul and Pat, for this was the first obvious sign of emotion they had seen in weeks.  
“You don't have a handle on reality, let alone your duties. If this goes on any longer you'll put the mission in jeopardy, sir.” Paul spoke firs, reaching out to reassuringly touch the Norsk’s forearm, “You need a break.”  
Tord felt the urge to push into his friend’s touch, but instead jerked away, “I am the Red Leader. This is my army, and you two are my subordinates. You will listen to me.” He stood and slammed his hand down on the table, the metal rattling with the force of the impact.  
Patryk flinched, though quickly recovered and gestured to the pictures once again. “Sorry boss, that's not how it's going to work from now on. You need this.”  
Flicking his gaze to where he indicated, Tord saw them and then actually looked  
at them, his heart stopped beating in his chest. Those were pictures of- of- he could barely even think it.  
Shots of an all too familiar house were sitting there, showing glimpses of the inhabitants, Edd and Matt and… The thought shut down, neurotransmitters abruptly halting their signals.  
The anger shattered, and the longer his green eyes lingered on the photographs, the weaker he felt. Everything in him screamed “No!” They couldn't see him he was broken trash evil disgusting. All his scars seemed to burn under his clothes and he was sure that they were visible even through three layers. He squeezed his eyes shut. This couldn't be happening. His clutched at his chest as he felt white hot pain there, pain that he thought he had buried, pain that he'd almost forgotten completely.  
“Boss! I need you to breathe. Tord look at me I have you. You're okay Tord it's okay.”  
“Paul stop, he's having an attack.”  
“But why, those are his friends-”  
“It doesn't matter, hold him still.”  
Tord sucked in air, barely noticing that he'd fallen and was crumpled on the ground. Something touched him and he began to struggle, babbling in Norwegian. Shushing noises filled his ears and blocked out Patryk’s curses. He was pinned down a moment later and the fear truly began to take over. He gave a strangled yell just as something jabbed into his arm, making his panic increase exponentially. He thrashed around and sent kicks flying, nothing going through his mind but the urge to get away. Fatigue began to crash through his limbs moments later. Desperately, he fought through the heaviness, opening his eyes to find that he could only see the silhouettes of two men before everything went dark.  
. . .  
A lot of preparation went into Tord’s “vacation”, as they called it. There was the army to take care of, and Tord had to be coached through the fear of returning to his old home. Paul took him to a soldier that had once been a psychiatrist one day… it went less than well. The Norsk left after his third time. Plans and what ifs ran through the small man’s head constantly, and soon enough he found himself being dropped off at his new home with a bag and a buzzing in his body. He felt numb, but also hopeful for once in a long while. He was home, after eight years that he wanted to forget, he was home.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Home Sweet Home

_ Maybe I should have called and announced my arrival, _ Tord thought as he stared at the doorbell he just rang. This was going to be hell at the very least, showing up out of the blue was the worst way to go about things and yet here he was. The door opened wide, revealing a handsome ginger, Matt. Tord gulped, “Hello, old friend.” He became aware of how much his accent had changed while he was gone and felt his stomach knot up. 

  “Uh, and who are you?” 

Matt was frowning slightly, not enough to crease his face, (he said it made wrinkles appear quicker; Tom said stupidity made them appear faster.) The Norsk felt his breath catch and struggled to find his composure, “It’s me, uh, Tord.” 

“Matt? Who’s at the door?” Someone yelled, too high to be…

“Some guy with weird hair! Come look!” Matt replied, Tord felt the urge to snap at his old friend that his hair was not weird, it was cool.

And then Edd came to the door. The brunet pulled the door open to see the visitor, stopping and staring openly. “Tord?”

“Ah, hey Edd, it has been a long time, yes?” his feet shuffled about as awkwardly as his words. 

Edd blinked. “Tord what the fuck?”

The question came out loud and snappy, causing an uncontrollable flinch. “I-”

“What. The. Fuck. Where did you-” He heaved in a breath, “Eight years of nothing and you show up with a duffel bag? Seriously Tord?” 

He tried to placate his friend, moving his hands in a ‘calm down’ motion, “I can explain Edd, trust me, just-” 

Edd shut up his old roommate with a sharp look, arms crossed over his chest. the years of absence thickening into a palpable tension. Tord rubbed the back of his neck. “I, uh,” he swallowed thickly around his anxiety and resisted the urge to abandon this plan and just leave, even if it would be much easier than any of this.

Matt looked between the two, feeling like a third wheel in a lover's quarrel, “Um, Edd, can we just hear him out? He looks like hell.” 

The words threw him off for a moment, but he recovered and offered a tentative smile, glancing between the two almost hopefully. “I-I promise Edd, just- can I come inside and explain?”

“I really don’t think that’s-“ Edd started, shooting a glance behind him.

“Of course! We wouldn’t just leave you to stand in the cold!” Matt either missed Edd’s worried tone, or completely disregarded it, throwing an arm forward and clapping Tord on the shoulder, startling him.

“Matt, it’s 57 degrees outside-” 

The Norwegian coughed and took a step back, edging away from the two. He was just opening his mouth to admit that this was probably a bad idea when Matt picked up on his behaviour and shot Edd a look before stepping outside and ushering Tord forward again. “Come on, he can at least come in for a bit and explain.”

Edd’s mouth opened with a small pop before he ground his teeth together, and gestured inside the house almost reluctantly. “ _ Fine,  _ come in Tord, Matt and I will be right in once we finish talking.” His brown eyes glance between the kitchen and Tord. “Water and juice are in the fridge, you know, in case you’ve forgotten _.  _ It has been nearly a  _ decade _ , after all.” 

The sugary sweet words tacked on at the end left the Norsk sick, and he nodded numbly with a whispered, “I remember.”

He placed the beat up duffel bag against the wall separating the living room and hallway, ignoring the unease that made his stomach toss violently. The sound of Matt and Edd’s hushed arguing seemed far away to his ears, overcome with the loud ringing as he looked around the living room. His hands tapped nervously at his side and his green eyes darted around the room, taking everything in. The couches that they’d picked out over ten years ago were nowhere in sight, clean spots and impressions still standing out on the carpet. He was just about to make a remark about this, try and lighten the mood a little, when suddenly his blood ran cold. 

Nothing had changed, but the hair on the back of his neck prickled with unease, mouth suddenly tasting like cold tequila kisses and nights filled with idiotic decisions. The voice he’d dreamt about, the voice that echoed in his nightmares and haunted him every day suddenly sounded from just out of his peripheral vision.

“What is  **he** doing here?”

Tord found himself whipping around to face the source of the voice, his eyes wide in that way that made him look like a frightened child. “Thomas, I-”

“Don’t.” His black eyes show no emotion, voice shooting out quickly before he spoke again. “Don’t fucking speak to me.” Malice dripped off his tongue, so poisonous Tord could nearly feel it making his blood wither in his veins. 

The Norsk shrunk into himself, “I, okay-”

“I said don't fucking speak to me.” He snapped, bristling visibly. 

Edd appeared, saving Tord from even attempting to respond. A hand grabbed the sleeve of his hoodie and dragged him forward unceremoniously, Edd placing himself between Tord and Tom as he dragged the smaller man to the kitchen. “Let’s, uh, get you that juice.” 

He couldn’t help it- as Edd yanked him into the kitchen he glanced over his shoulder at Tom, heart skipping a beat when he saw Matt grabbing the alcoholic’s hands in his own and whispering something to him. Jerking with Edd’s movements, he was pulled away from the scene to the brunet shuffling in the fridge to pull out orange juice. “Here, grab a glass, they're in the same place.” His voice was softer than earlier, which Tord appreciated even when his mind was still trying to discern the possible meaning behind the exchange he had seen. 

He silently took a cup from a cabinet and let Edd pour him a drink with a small “Thank you.”

Swallowing the first gulp was like trying to force glass shards down his throat. In fact, Tord nearly choked on the drink, vaguely wondering when the last time he’d had any water was. Edd nudged him to a barstool and he sat, staring at the offending drink for a time. 

By the time he glanced up from his seat again, both Matt and Thomas had disappeared further into the house- something which caused his heart to twist painfully. Edd settled on shooting rapid-fire questions and Tord lied his way through them numbly.

“Where have you been?”

“Here and there, you know how it is.”

“Why did you stop calling?”

“Number changed-” This one was true, to some degree. He’d ditched his old cell phone within twelve hours of leaving home.

“So you couldn’t be bothered to look us up in yellow pages?” Edd raised his eyebrows, his gestures loose in the way they only got when he was irritated. 

“I, uh, did not think of that…” The lies were coming easy now, readily practiced and executed with years of experience behind them. 

“Oh for fuck’s sake-  _ fine.  _ Why didn’t you write letters or use even the slightest amount of  _ effort  _ to try and keep in touch with us.” 

_ Because I was locked up in that-  _ he halted that train of thought quickly and sighed, “I did not have time.”

“Why did you leave us in the first place, then?”

“To go to the city, you know this.” That was a terribly flimsy excuse, in retrospect. 

“Fine. What did you find in the city that was so important you had to ignore us for eight years.”

“Work.” He deadpanned. 

Edd’s fist smacking on the table jolted him from his automatic responses, and his eyebrows knitted together as he looked at the source of the disturbance. “Stop the  _ bullshit _ , Tord. Give me a straight answer for, for fucking  _ once  _ just give me…” He trailed off, tired brown eyes raking up and down Tord’s body before he slumped slightly in his seat. “Just give me a straight answer, please.” His voice was far too quiet, far too subdued. Tord wishes he would yell again, that Edd would get angry and pissed- lash out at the Norsk in the way he knew he deserved. Anything but just sit here and look so… defeated. 

“I-” he tapped his forefinger against the glass nervously to stall, “Can we talk about this later? I am tired.”

Edd inhaled deeply, as if he might push the subject longer before he sighed and put his head in a hand, waving the other one dismissively. “Yeah. Sure, Tord. I’m not dropping it forever, though.”

“I- may I stay here tonight?” He asked with apprehension, looking at the brunet expectantly. He hoped for a yes, since he had nowhere else to go. 

The brunet let out an annoyed sound, watered down brown eyes looking up to settle on the fidgeting Norsk, “Sure just- you owe me an explanation, Tord.”

“Of course; I only need some rest, I had a long trip here.” He lied through his teeth. His carefully prewritten lies had started to unravel before his very eyes, leaving him only with the option to dodge the questions rather than try to answer them. 

He shoved up out of the stool and turned away to walk to his room, stopped by a comment from Edd, “Matt was right, you do look like hell Tord.” The Norsk shrugged it off, speed walking away to his old room, grabbing his bag on the way, and slipped in without ceremony. 

He exhaled softly, leaning against the door, wrapping his arms around his stomach and hunching in. His eyes opened to Tom glaring at him. His heart froze and his eyes flicked around his old room, now obviously inhabited by the pissed off drunk. 

“I-” As usual, Tom didn’t wait for him to finish.

“What are you doing here?”

“This… is my room.” He swallowed and glanced around again, adding quietly. “Was.. was my room.”

“What are you doing  _ here _ ? Back in this house.”

“I… missed home.” He muttered, avoiding the piercing gaze of his friend. 

Tom’s response is immediate, voice painfully apathetic, “This isn’t your home anymore.”

Tord winced, rubbing his wrist tenderly through his sweater and staring at the floor, incapable of coming up with a witty comeback or anything to say at all. The silence between them stretched on painfully before Tom scoffed. “Don't answer then, I don't care.”

“I will just… go and sleep on the couch.” He wheezed out past the fist in his chest.

“No.”

Tord’s eyes shot up at the response, heart thudding loudly. Thomas continued, “I don’t trust you, so you’re sleeping in here tonight. Make a bed on the floor.” The drunk stalked to the closet and grabbed his headphones, his next words growled lowly. “Plus, we don’t have the couch anymore. Dumbass.” 

Before Tord could respond, Tom slipped the headphones over his ears and plugged them into his phone. Seconds later Tord could see the cuffs vibrating with the heavy bass assaulting the Brit’s ears. He stared at Tom, examining him for changes, noticing he'd gained weight and definition, a little round and more bulky in his top half. Tord wondered if he found him even more attractive now. The Brit looked  _ powerful _ . 

Shaking his head, the Norsk looked to find something to make a bed, before realizing he didn't have any sort of sleeping bag or blanket. He moved to the closet, shooting a cautious look to the brooding Brit at the desk. Tom gave no reaction  not that he was paying Tord any attention so he began digging in the trashed closet for anything he could sleep on. 

Laying on the floor, there it was, a stupid booze stained blue sweater that had been crumpled up and thrown inside. Quickly, Tord snatched it up and cradled it to his chest. There was an old sheet that smelled like sweat nearby that he balled the sweater up in, so he could smuggle the thing over to a corner to sleep with. His little nest was pitiful and hardly comfortable, but still better than some of the living conditions that he'd previously endured. 

Falling asleep was painful, Tord’s eyes brimming with tears as he buried his face in one of Tom’s old jackets. He’d often spent many of his nights with one of the Brit’s stolen ties pressed to his nose to help him fall asleep, but that was nothing in comparison to  _ this.  _ This, straight from the source. The strong scent of alcohol, fabric softener, and a hint of sweat all wrapped up in something that just painted his thoughts with  _ Tom Tom Tom Tom Tom. _ He dared not look at the man, simply keeping his face buried in the makeshift pillow and trying not to sob.

This was a bad idea, he should have never come back, he should have just fucking  _ died _ already. Edd was mad at him, Matt forgot him, and Tom… Tom hated his guts. Tom hated him, and Tord stilled loved him with all his being. How was that for a cliche. Ha. The Norsk wanted to crawl into his bed and cry and tell him everything that happened but he  _ couldn't.  _ He couldn’t because he knew, he  _ knew  _ Tom didn’t want to have anything to do with him anymore.

The events of that day overwhelmed his spinning mind as he curled in on himself, sleep eventually catching him and stopping the never ending barrage of negative thoughts. He slept soundly curled up in the smell of booze, sweat, and Tom. 


	3. Chapter 3

The feeling of cold, clammy hands on his body shot through the fuzziness of sleep, making Tord shoot up from his little nest. His chest heaved for a few minutes as his eyes darted about the room, frantic. Finally, he registered where he was and relaxed a little. Some wake up call. He sighed, settling back onto his makeshift bed, tucking his knees close to his chest and fiddling with the edges of his sweater, and then Tom finally spoke to him for the first time since he told Tord to just make a bed on the floor. 

“You smell like you took a nap in a dumpster.”

“That is funny because your clothes are the things that smell like a dumpster.” He snapped and immediately felt embarrassed. That delivery was shit, plus he had admitted he had slept with Tom’s clothes.

“Yeah well, go take a fucking shower already. I’ll throw _ all _ the clothes in the laundry.” He exhaled heavily, as if talking to Tord pained him, settling a dead gaze on the Norsk. “Did you even bother packing clothes? How long were you planning on dragging this out, anyways?”

Tord was beginning to feel like every word Thomas said was a knife cut, though he still replied somewhat smoothly, “I have to talk to Edd about it, but yes I did bring clothes.”

There was almost a hint of relief in Tom’s eyes before it vanished as he returned his attention back to his desk. There was a  short silence before he grinds out, “Don’t use Matt’s soaps, he’ll lose his shit. I’m sure you remember which ones are mine, you can use those for now. Just, go fucking bathe already before my room starts to smell like rotting Commie corpse.”

“Fine. I am going. Would you ever so kindly do me a favor and bring me my bag? I mean, since you are so insistent on me going now.” He hissed, not bothering to look at the Brit as he got up and turned away. The scathing words were almost comfortably familiar. 

As he reached the door, two thumps hit his back, followed quickly by a third piece of clothing landing squarely on his head and covering his eyes. He growled and shrugged it off, to Tom’s mirthful, “There’s your clothes, fucker.” He flipped off the drunk after picking up the clothes tossed at him. Tord puffed under his breath, cheeks itching with the urge to smile as he made his way to the bathroom. Maybe it could be like old times. There was less of the insistent  _ fear  _ dragging at his psyche when he was home, it made at least some of the tension dissipate.

He stripped off his clothes in precise fashion, distancing himself from his actions as he tossed his things in a pile and slipping into the shower. He hated being naked, ever since…  _ not now Tord.  _

The shower water didn't turn straight to boiling like it did at the base, so he had too much time to sit and stare at his feet, trying not to think about his bare skin or scars. Once the water was steaming, he stepped in and lost himself to the hot droplets on his skin. Time passed quickly as he half-mindedly scrubbed at his skin, fingers hesitating around wounds old and new. Soon enough the water ran cold and he got out, wrapping a towel around his shoulders to warm back up. 

A slow panic set in when Tord realized his jacket was gone along with the other clothes. Instead, there was a huge purple sweater along with a roll of gauze that hadn’t been there before sitting on the sink. His stomach rolled uncomfortably. He took the roll, looking down at now irritated and bleeding cuts that littered his malnourished form, and threw it into the trash. The blood was wiped away with stray toilet paper and disposed of before he yanked on his clothes with shaking hands. The sweater was too big on the small norsk, and didn't look too good on him- purple wasn't his color- but it worked. 

Cleaned and clothed, he left the bathroom and immediately smelled coffee in the air. The scent made him brighten and he made his way to the kitchen where a fresh pot was brewing. Tord poured himself a cup and sat at the table, a bit too tired and out of it to notice Matt sitting nearby.

The Norsk nursed his drink, enjoying the warmth in his hands obviously until Matt spoke up. “So are you an ex of Tom’s?” 

Tord almost spewed his coffee all over the counter, whipping around to face the ginger and wiping his mouth. “Fæn! When did you get here?”

Matthew was more solemn than normal, looking somewhat mature even though he was eating what looked like a chocolate ice cream bar. “I've been here Todd, didn't you notice?”

“It's Tord.” 

“What?” He cocked his head like a puppy, just like he used to. It made Tord’s heart ache. 

He explained smoothly, “My name is Tord. You said Todd.” 

“Excuse me, but what kind of a name is Tord?”

“It is Norwegian. Well... short for a Norwegian name.” A sip of coffee went down, easing his nerves some. 

“I thought you were Russian.”

Tord let out a heavy sigh, “No, I am not Russian, though the accent may sound close to you.” 

“Oh, okay Todd…” he paused for a long time, his face falling some, “So are you Tom’s ex?”

Tord swallowed down some coffee to give himself time to come up with an answer, eyes skittering away from Matthew’s almost… sulking face. He cleared his throat slightly and tapped the counter nervously with a finger. “I am a… uh… yes. I am. An ex of his.” Great, that was the most awkward sentence ever. 

The answer didn’t seem to improve Matt’s mood, and he simply hummed, biting into his ice cream bar and staring down at the counter.

“Is that ice cream? Last I remember you were a bit of a health nut.” Tord asked, trying to clear the air. The ginger was always easy to distract.  

His eyebrows furrowed together slightly- not enough to wrinkle the skin between them, but enough to show his confusion. “I don’t know how you… know that. But, I’m still a health nut. This isn’t chocolate, it’s a dietary requirement of mine.”

“Dietary… requirement?” He frowned and looked at the bar. 

Before Matt could answer, a new presence graced the kitchen. Tom was scruffy, grumbling about laundry as he sat purposefully between them and pecked the ginger on his cheek with a loud smack. Immediately, Tord felt his mood drop again, lowering his gaze to his coffee. There was the sound of a pleased hum before suddenly Tom piped up.

“Euhg… Babe, you got blood on your cheek.  _ Again. _ ” 

At the words, Matt quickly wiped a napkin over his face, apologizing to Tom quickly and the giving him a cold kiss at the corner of his jaw. Tord was going to be sick.

“Blood?” Tom looked to Tord at the accusing statement. “You said blood, is on…” It was then that Matt yawned, and Tord got an eyeful of fangs. Fangs. What the fuck. Fangs. Fangs? Fangs.

“On my cheek? Yeah that happens, it's kinda gross.” He laughed softly, as if it was perfectly normal. 

“Fangs,” came Tord’s oh so elegant response, still blinking dumbly at Matthew.

Edd came shuffling into the kitchen, denying him answers yet again as he threw back the last of a can of cola and burped. Good old Edd. “Reunion breakfast. I'm taking orders.”

His mood was better than yesterday, which was out of character for morning Edd. Tord then realized his childhood friend had dark bags under his eyes- you can’t get grumpy about waking up if you never went to sleep.

“Pancakes!” Matt immediately blurted, making the other two sitting with him roll their eyes.

“Tom?” Edd shot, already pulling pancake mix out. 

“Get me a screwdriver and I'll suck you off I swear.” 

Edd stopped for a second, sighed, and then kept moving, “Orange juice it is.”

The Brit wrinkled his nose, but took the cup of orange juice that Edd placed in front of him. When Edd raised his eyebrows purposefully, he let out a long suffering sigh and glanced at the fridge. “I’ll take… Blueberries in my pancakes.” He was rewarded with a clap on the shoulder and a beaming smile from Edd.

“Got It Tom. And bacon for Tord!” 

“Ah, no thank you Edd. I am not hungry.”

“Turning down food? How uncharacteristic.” Tom glanced over as he said this, and Tord found himself worrying if he had noticeably lost weight. 

“You have to eat something Tord, it says so on these.” Edd produced up a little orange bottle from the countertop and shook it some. The kitchen went silent. 

His face darkened when he saw the bottle, eyes flicking between Edd’s hand and face. There’s more tense silence before he responded. “You went through my bag.” His words were glaciers, cold and undeniable, something none of the three had heard from Tord often.

Somehow, Edd stood his ground, though his foot tapped nervously. “Can you really blame me? You left for nearly a decade, then just show up with a duffel bag and some sense of what? A guilt complex?” All eyes were on the brunet as he set bottle on the counter with a finality. “Look. We grew up together, but I had to be sure that… I don’t know, Tord! You weren’t coming here for some sick sense of payback? I don’t know you anymore, you’re… You’re not the same person I grew up with, and I had to be sure I wasn’t putting anyone in danger with you staying here.”

He stood suddenly, startling them all, “I am not hungry.” He went to leave before Tom spoke up, voice hard but not scathing for once. 

“Sit down commie, and eat.” This was the softest thing he'd heard come from the man he loved since he came back, and it immediately melted the chill some. 

He stood there for a minute before silently sitting back down, staring at his clenched fists.  He almost wanted to snap back at the Brit and tell him to shove it, when Matt spoke up too.

“Can I have my meds too, Edd?” The brunet quirked an eyebrow as if this was an unusual question, but plucked several bottles from the cabinet next to the fridge.

“Uh, yeah, we should all probably… take ours.” Edd handed off two bottles to Matt, tossing another four to Tom, and unscrewed one of his own before handing Tord his three bottles. 

“That is new…” Tord muttered

“That's what happens when you leave for a long time. Things change.” Tom replied and  chucked one of his bottles at Edd’s head, huffing. “I don’t take this until tonight, Egghead.”

“Maybe it changed Tom, ever thought about that?” He sniped at the black-eyed brit jokingly when he caught it, putting the bottle back where it came from. Matt laughed quietly and popped his three pills easily, swallowing them with some of Tom’s juice while he was distracted with flipping off Edd.

“These are just pain meds anyways Edd. I only need these sometimes.” He let out a breathy laugh, which was met with a stern mother-hen look. 

“That was one of the shittiest lies I’ve ever heard, I can read labels Tord.” The Norsk looked down at the bottles again, silent. “It's fine. I’m used to Tom, and I swear he believes he's allergic to meds. 

“Don’t compare me to him.” The response is immediate, black eyes settling a glare on Edd. 

“Oh quit being dramatic Tom, we’re all friends here.” Edd was quick in diffusing the tension, lessening the drunk’s wrath. 

Matt was the first one to get a plate of fluffy pancakes set in front of him, and he wasted no time digging in. The man had a more voracious appetite then Tord remembered. Lots of things had changed.  “Edd, can I have my syrup?” There’s a visible shudder from the brunet as he hands over a bottle of unlabeled strawberry syrup to the ginger.

Tom's blueberry pancakes were next, a huge stack. Tord wondered how his friend was churning these out, and why the others were eating triple what they used to. The sizzle of bacon began to fill the air as Edd began to fry up more food. He refilled Tord’s coffee and produced another can of cola to sip at while he scrambled eggs. 

All of the food smells were making Tord's stomach growl, which he hoped nobody heard. His hope was in vain, because Matt looked up curiously. Seconds later he started lifting a forkful of pancake dripping in strawberry syrup for Tord. “Want to try? Edd makes the best pancakes!”

“Um I will have to pass.” Food sounded sickening to the him, especially the look of Matt’s soggy sweets. 

Just as that thought came to mind, a hot plate of food was set in front of him, bacon, eggs and pancakes. “Edd, I said I was not hungry.” He laughed awkwardly to make it seem more relaxed than it came out. 

The brunet settled his friend with a heavy stare, picking up one of the pieces of bacon and holding it in front of Tord’s face. “If you don’t shove this food that I worked  _ really hard on  _ in your mouth, I’m going to pour Matt’s syrup all over them and make you eat them.” 

Tom winced with a small chuckle at the thought, Matt frowning around the food in his mouth and whining something unintelligible. “Oh, Tord,  _ please  _ don’t eat anything this will be great.” Thomas piped up, smiling for the first time since the Norsk had returned home.

“I- What is wrong with the syrup?” he queried with concern, glancing at Matt. 

“Just eat your food Tord.” This time, he looked serious. Edd wasn’t usually scary, but when he put his foot down he wasn’t a good person to argue with. 

“Edd, I-” he tried to think of a good excuse. 

Tom put a hand on his wrist, making every cell in his body light up with panic. The smaller man’s eyes flashed to him and he froze. “Just eat the food, it's not gonna kill you.” 

That frightened animal look was apparent on Tord's face, making Tom back off. “Tord, what's wrong?” Matt asked, giving him a worried look.

_ Calm down calm down calm down. “ _ Ah I- I was just startled some. It is okay.” He assured, hiding his shaking hands by putting them in his lap.  _ One piece of bacon won’t hurt much.  _

“You’re an even easier scare than before.” Tom snorted, going back to his pile of food. “Just eat you fuckin commie.” 

Edd’s gaze lingered on the Norsk, who gave him a stubborn look in return. They had a Mexican standoff of a stare down until finally Tord crossed his arms. “I hope you are a better cook than you used to be, because I feel like keeping my digestive system intact.” he reluctantly started to munch on some bacon, feeling uncomfortable with all the attention focused on him.

The brunet seemed to be somewhat satisfied at that point, and he fixed himself his own plate of food and began to dig in as well. Some part of Tord lingered on the fact that it almost felt like old times again, except instead of him digging into the food like he once would have, he was nibbling at bacon reluctantly. “So, Edd, I have to ask.” his mind was whirling, but he had to keep moving forward, he was trying to fix his relationships and do that stupid ‘healing’ thing that everyone wanted to harp him about. “Can I move back in?”

“No.” Tom’s answer was immediate, growling through food to deny the semblance of warmth he had earlier. 

Edd thumped the taller man’s head head, “Let me think about it Tord.” The answer was a lot more calculating, less open than it used to be.  _ Or he just doesn’t trust you. Who would trust a murderer. _

He sighed, “Matt do you want the rest of mine? I’m full.” He’d eaten about 2 pieces of bacon and a few bites of eggs and he was feeling sick. All of Paul and Patryk’s work was going down the drain, meds and food and everything. Ha.

The ginger tilted his head in thought before reaching to take the plate. Edd batted his hand away though. “Finish your food Tord.” For such a teddy bear of a man, he could be very stern. 

“Oh go fuck yourself Mom. I am okay.” he sat up in his chair and went to go clean the kitchen, and promptly ran into Edd’s arm. 

He was pushed back into the chair somewhat roughly, receiving a deadly look, “If you want to stay here,then the first requirement is that you must eat three meals a day, now eat before I make you.” 

Tord felt a sizzling anger rise in his chest, “Edd, you need to back off, I am perfectly capable of deciding when I need to eat.” He shoved the arm away from him. 

“What’s wrong with you?” the Brit growled, snapping Tord’s attention to him. “You shouldn’t have come back if you’re just going to be an asshole.”

Tord was done with all this food talk, and Tom’s glare only made him bristle more. He didn’t bother to say anything else, pushing out of his chair and picking up Matt’s empty plate. Might as well help around while he was staying, or something.

\---

There was an ever-growing list of ways Tord had changed, reasons to be suspicious, in Tom’s mind. This was one of the most mind-boggling changes though, the Norsk had never been one to back down from a fight. He would yell and hit and make a menace out of himself at any chance. Grunting noncommittally, he turned to his remaining food. He would have to deal with it later, this was still in Edd’s ballpark; this was clear by the fidgeting and unusually quiet breakfast.

Matt finally kissed him softly, headed to help clean up and leaving Tom and Edd alone. They were quiet for awhile before the former alcoholic finally sighed, “I don't trust him.”

“He's staying.” The response was snappish, Edd’s fist clenched tightly. “And we're fixing him.”

“He's up to something. Look at him, that's not our Tord.” He knew Edd could see it,  but what he didn’t understand was why he would let the commie stay. 

“Tom have you even looked at him?” The brunet turned to look at him with almost sad eyes. “He’s lost so much weight and he talks different and he had anti-fucking-psychotics in his bag that he clearly doesn’t take. Something’s wrong with him, Tom, he’s not plotting anything. So don’t let your baggage cloud your judgement.” Edd was glowering at his friend at this point, still despite his obvious emotion.

Tom opened his mouth to argue, changing his mind quickly and sinking back in his chair. He was split between suspicion and knowing that Edd was right, to a point. “Fine, just don’t expect it to be just like old times.” and with that, Edd shoved out of his chair and took his plates, leaving Tom alone at the table. 

He sat there for a moment before following, and after the alcoholic dumped his empty dishes in the sink he touched Matt’s arm, jerking his head to the side to indicate that they should talk somewhere else. The ginger looked back at Tord, who was cleaning plates with intense concentration, and followed Tom out of the kitchen with a worried look. “What is it?” 

The brunette pulled them into his room, closing the door deliberately behind them and turned to face Matt “Can Tord room with you? I don't want him to sleep alone and- yeah.” He left it at that, hoping Matt would just pick up on his mood. 

“Why, because you two went out?” The vampire snorted. 

“What? No! He’s Tord!” He grimaced at the thought of him. “The point is he can’t sleep in my room again. I’m sure he’d rather room with you than with Edd, so you’re the best choice.”

A slight frown emerged, blue eyes narrowing the slightest bit. “Why do I have to share my bed with someone I don’t even know?”

“Because Edd and Tord have baggage and I might try to rip his commie head off.” He sighed and scrubbed at his face with his hands, peering at the ginger afterwards,  “Please Matt?”

Tom wasn’t usually one to ask nicely, and when he did he was rarely sincere. The knowledge of this prompted the freckled man to sigh and acquiesce. “Fine but if he complains about me being up all night he gets to sleep on the couch.” 

Tom snickered, “We don’t have a couch anymore, doofus.” before grabbing his boyfriend’s face and kissing his nose. Matt wrinkled his face in mock disgust and pushed him away. “Your breath stinks.” he complained.

“Thanks babe.” Tom smiled, another rare thing for him to do, even though this one was more out of relief than happiness. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things Blow Up  
> TW: alcohol abuse  
> NSFW warning for the first part ;). Sadness warning for the rest

 Living with Tord back in the house was… odd to say the least. The current setup was transitory for the most part, but after the first few days they had settled into some sort of routine. 

The day usually started with an argument between the newcomer and the head of the household about something or other. First it was food and pills but the battle was lost once it started, so then it moved to invasive questions and mother hen behavior that made Tord snap and retreat back into Matt’s room for a long while. Matt did his best to keep track of the norsk, who tended to sink into the background of the chaos of the house. It was hard, all of the time he had to watch Tord was time that Tom was hidden away, avoiding even looking at the Norsk. 

Tord had a tendency to change his demeanor at the snap of a finger, one moment laughing and chatting away, watching Insane Zombie Pirates from Hell with them all while bantering with the ginger and even sometimes Edd. Then a switch would flip and suddenly there was a scared animal, that is what Matt came to know as what Tord really was like. All the little mannerisms, the careful, small movements and the eyes that searched every room for some sign of danger, the things that made Edd frown and Tom scowl, those were Tord, and that was startlingly different from what things had used to be, apparently. 

It was just another long, long day for Matt, he wanted things to go back to normal, at this point. It seemed like every day there was more conflict sizzling in the air and leaving a bad taste in his mouth. He looked up from his phone at the empty living room. Tord must have gone to bed or passed out again- the Norsk’s sleeping patterns were odd in the way that he didn’t really sleep, and when he did it was in wild positions because he had passed out from sheer exhaustion.  He’d once been found slumped over a cup of coffee. Matt turned off the telly, curling up into a comfortable spot on the couch and texting Tom to come cuddle. 

    The Brit wandered in a while after, taking his place draped across Matt’s lap and nuzzling into his stomach gently. “I've missed you.” The ginger sighed, idly petting at Tom's hair. 

   He grunted softly in response, turning over so he could look up at his boyfriend. “I've been getting out of control around him. I'm sorry.”

   “Was it a bad breakup?” Matt reached back to rub the Brit’s neck, smiling at the contented rumble that followed. Sometimes Tom could be adorable in unexpected ways. 

    “What do you mean?” He frowned, leaning back into the touch. 

    “You can barely keep yourself from strangling him, Tom. Why?” He watched the Brit carefully. 

    “I don’t trust him. Fucking commie is planning something and I can tell.” Tom replied in a low tone. 

   “Tom, I think you should take it easy on him.” The Brit narrowed his eyes at the vampire, only for Matt to go on. “He has enough on his plate.”

    Tom opened his mouth to reply only for both of their attentions to be yanked away by the sound of ringtone that was- foreign music, not any of theirs. The Brit got up and stalked towards the sound, which was emanating the kitchen, his boyfriend close on his heels.  It took them a moment to locate the source of the annoying jingle. A small red phone was nestled between the cushions of one of the chairs. Tord’s, if Matt had to guess. 

As if sensing his touch, the ringer abruptly shut off when he touched it. A look of confusion passed between the two for a split second, the curiosity only growing when words issued from the device. 

_ “Boss,”  _ a tinny voice spoke.  _ “We need to talk about what’s going on at… home. It’s a code R39, urgent. Call me.” _

__ Tom glared at the offending device, grabbing it once it went silent. “Where is Tord?” He growled, turning to glare at Matt as if he were entirely responsible for the thing. 

  “I- think he went to bed. Tom, wait.” He put a hand on his arm. “You need to calm down.”

   The Brit was already pulling away from his boyfriend. “He’s up to something and I know it. Stay out of it Matt I don’t want things to get messy.”

Matthew clamped his arm around the brunet’s wrist before the other could get far. “Things are going to get messy if you wake him up now, Tom, you know that,” he pleaded, unwilling to let a fight happen at two am.

“This is serious. Matt. He’s up to something and you and Edd could get hurt.” He tugged his arm, bristling with aggression that made the vampire shiver. 

“No.” The word came out much more forceful than intended, causing his grip to gain strength as he dragged the angry man back to him. “You can’t just assume things like that Tom. Leave it alone. Please.”

He hesitated before pressing into Matt with a sigh. “What if he’s planning something dangerous? I can’t let you get hurt because of Tord.”

“You of all people should know that I can protect myself. I’m not sure I even can be hurt.” The ginger smiled hesitantly at the other man, despite his apparent comfort over his condition, it was still unnerving. 

“Matt it’s not like that it’s- he acts different he acts colder… What if he would hurt you or Edd?” He pulled his boyfriend close to him possessively, lacing the fingers of his free hand through the ginger’s. 

“Tom, I really don’t think he’s here to hurt us. He’s been through a lot in the past few years, I can tell. If he is the same guy that lived with us before then I think we owe him the benefit of the doubt.”

“Matt…” he trailed off, touching their foreheads together. “Okay but- there is still something off, you at least have to admit that.”

“Maybe there is, Tom. But I really doubt that he’d hurt any of us. You can ask him at breakfast if you want. Not before okay?”

“Do you want to sleep with me tonight? I miss you.” He was quick to change the subject, making little movements to get closer to Matt. 

“Sure!” Matt chirped happily, mood brightening practically instantly. They hadn’t spent much time together in the last few weeks with first Tom being out of town and then Tord showing up on their doorstep. 

Smiling, Tom planted a soft kiss on the ginger’s jawline. “Okay. Let’s get to bed. I’m tired as hell.”

Matt honestly didn’t mind spending the long nights with Tom. He preferred to spend them listening to the alcoholic breathe than spend them sitting alone at his desk. So he let the Brit tug him to his room and into bed. They settled down into the sheets, Tom complaining about the vampire’s cold skin as usual, even though he ended up tucked close to him anyways. 

Nights like this always seemed to end too soon for the ginger, though the nights he spent alone were never over soon enough. As the light of day crept its way across the comforter slowly, the creature of the night’s heart filled with dismay. He dreaded the conflict that always seemed to be inevitable in the morning. So when Tom started to stir he kept still and perfectly quiet, attempting to prolong the peaceful quiet of the early light. 

He could tell the second his lover came to full consciousness due to the low groan the lump of the person emitted. Of course he took full advantage of the situation, pinning the other’s arm down as he kissed him, immediately going for the tongue and nibbling on his lips as a ‘good morning’.

Tom hummed into the kiss, “Well good morning Matt.” The ginger could  _ hear _ the smirk as he was tugged closer by a free hand. 

“Hey! I was trapping you.” Matt whined, smiling into Tom’s lips and plopping down on the Brit. 

“I’m trapping _ you, _ ” he corrected, draping an arm over the other’s waist to pull him closer as they kissed again. 

“Babe, I’m hungry,” Matt breathed softly, the majority of his attention focused on his boyfriend’s heartbeat that pounded much too loudly in his ears. “I haven’t had anything fresh in a while,” he whined lowly, a hollow stomach encouraging his hesitance into eagerness. 

Tom hummed, taking the moment to rub Matt’s sides carefully. “Well I think I could deal with having your mouth on my neck right now.” 

“That was so not smooth Tom.” The vampire huffed, starting to kiss along the Brit’s jaw. After he was done there he nosed his way down into the hood that was bunched around his partner's neck. Matt looked up at Tom with a sweet smile, licking up to the skin under his ear and beginning to kiss there. He alternated between using his tongue and teeth there, gently teasing the brunette to irk him. 

Tom growled softly, more playful than anything else, “Don’t be a tease.” 

“Me? A tease? Never.” Matt said as he nipped harshly at the tendon that impressed itself into the skin of Tom’s neck, careful to not draw blood just yet. “Gentlemen don’t play with their food you know.” 

“All you gentlemen do is play.” He snorted and tilted his head to show off his neck. 

“Are you really complaining about this?” Matt kept this teeth poised hardly above the neck before him, close enough that each pulse sent the vulnerable skin straight into the needle points of his teeth.

“I don’t complain. I get what I want.” He suddenly tugged Matt to him. The vampire pushed back to stop his momentum, making it so that his fangs barely sunk into the soft skin. Tom hissed out a curse and instinctively relaxed, letting his lover take control. “Ookay-“ 

“You smell nice,” the ginger purred, lapping up the slowly pooling blood before fixing his lips to the area and beginning to feed. The other means he usually used to eat were never nearly as satisfying as fresh blood, still warm from the source. 

Tom made a soft noise, tightening his hold on the ginger and encouraging him. Matt ran his hands up and down the brunet’s sides, closing his eyes and enjoying the taste and sounds and smells. 

When he felt that he’d taken enough, he pulled the last morsels from the wounds before licking over them carefully, both revelling in and hating the sensation of them closing at his command. He pulled away to look at the other’s dazed expression and licked the last of the blood from his lips, giving him a razor sharp smile. “Thank you love. That was delicious.”

Tom leaned in for a kiss, “That shouldn’t be nearly as hot as it is.” They rested like that for a bit, trading little gestures and touches. “Ready to get up? I’m starving.” He finally sighed, reaching for his phone to check the time. 

Matt groaned and rolled off of him, making noises of complaint the whole way to the floor. He offered a hand to the man still in bed, even though he predictably pushed it away and stood on his own, albeit a bit wobbly. “Stubborn as always,” The ginger remarked. 

“You know it, babe.” Tom leaned over to place a kiss on Matt’s cheek. “It’s your turn to make breakfast this morning so we’d better get out there before there’s a riot.” 

“Don’t remind me,” he griped, interlacing their fingers as they left the room. In the living room, Edd and Tord seemed to be watching something on the television, seated close to one another. Surprisingly close. 

Upon closer inspection, he saw that Tord looked… very rumpled. His eyes were puffy and unfocused, and Edd had a blank look on his face that bespoke of bad things. “Morning Edd…” Matt said in a borderline questioning tone, edging away from Tom in shame. 

“Tom! I didn’t know you had a secret stash of Smirnoff.” Edd chirped in that oh-you-are-so-fucking-busted voice. 

Tom glared at the offending snitch as if he were dirt beneath his shoe. “He wasn’t supposed to know either.” His repressed anger snapped to the forefront of his mind. “What’s it to you anyways? I can take care of myself Edd.”

“Well I am not too worried about it now since Tord here somehow drank himself sick and halfway dead last night. And I wish I was exaggerating.” The brunet said in a matter-of-fact tone. Matt’s eyes flicked to the Norsk and- how the hell did such a tiny guy drink so much and not die. 

Tord seemed to shrink into himself under the intense gaze, while Tom took up more space as he puffed his chest out in anger. “You shouldn’t have let him come back Edd and you know it. This is just the beginning,” he pointed an accusing finger at the green eyed man. “Go on and tell him about your freaky broadcast you got last night. Tell him! Tell us what you’re planning!”

Tord’s eyes finally focused on something, Tom getting increasingly angry, and he somehow shrunk further into himself. The ginger saw that scared animal look again and gently placed his hand on the Brit’s. “Tom, you need to calm down.” 

“Like hell I’ll calm down!” he shouted, jerking his hand away. He advanced a step before Matt pulled him back, afraid of what he would do to the thoroughly frightened man on the couch. 

“What’s gotten into you Tom?” Edd snapped, standing up and meeting the angry man. “It’s Tord! He’s not planning anything he’s just like you were when you got depressed! This isn’t him being shifty or suspicious this is a serious issue!” His finger was pressed up against Tom’s sternum at this point and the air between the two was sizzling with tension. 

Matt stepped away and flashed a look to the norsk, who looked scared out of his mind and about ready to cry. This was getting way out of hand. “Guys, I think we need to calm down-“

“I am going to be sick.” Tord muttered as he scrambled over the side of the couch and made a very messy beeline to the bathroom right in the middle of everything. The fighting pair had half a mind to watch him go and Matt follow. 

The small man was dry heaving into the toilet when the vampire went in after him. His small frame was shaking like a leaf and he was paler than paper. When he stopped the question of, “Can I touch you?” left the freckled man’s mouth. 

Matt could tell that Tord nodded through the shaking and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder, and he rubbed it over the area in slow, tight circles, making quiet humming noises as he listened to the argument in the livingroom die off and two distinct sets of footsteps came to the door. The ginger gave them a scolding look before turning back to the small man and carefully brushing the hair from his face. “Are you okay?”

Tord nodded again, obviously lying. He still looked sick and weak, and it was to the point that it made the vampire’s chest ache. He wasn’t doing so well, and it was plain for them all to see. “I am okay Mattie. My fault for drinking so much.” God, his voice sounded hoarse. 

“We should get some food in you, it’s not good to have that much alcohol in your system without any.” Matt was looking him up and down, reluctantly sniffing softly at the hint of blood that hung around the Norsk. What had happened?

The second Tord noticed him sniffing, his heartbeat picked up just a beat, so the vampire dropped it, glancing at the pair in the doorway. “Will you two bring him some toast or something? And some water?” They seemed to shuffle around awkwardly before leaving to do what Matt asked and soon the vampire and the norsk were alone. “Tord, are you really okay?”

“I said I am fine,” it should have come out snappish, but Matt guessed the small man didn’t even have it left in him to be angry. 

“Tord, whats-“ 

He was interrupted by Tom coming in and abruptly shoving a glass in the ginger’s face. “Here.”

“Um,” he took the glass. “Thanks love.” 

The Brit was quick to retreat from the bathroom, flashing an indecipherable look at Tord before he left. Matt quietly handed the water over, watching the smaller man carefully as he drank most of it and set it aside. Finally, the Norsk leaned back onto his feet, violently scrubbing at his face with the heels of his palms. “I need- two liters of coffee in me. Right now.” His voice sounded less pitiful at this point, but there was still no strength in what he said. 

“How about breakfast and maybe a nap? It looks like you haven’t been sleeping well,” he suggested, trying to discern if he’d even slept at all. 

“Nap, maybe. I am not going to keep anything I eat down.” He suddenly shoved himself up, wobbling visibly. “I am cold.” Matt stared after the norsk as he walked back to his spot on the couch and tugged a blanket over him. It was confusing for the ginger, since the house was 22 degrees and honestly a little hot. 

He shrugged, brushing it off as one of the man’s eccentricities, not to worry about it until he had more time to ponder it later. He entered the kitchen to a tense but quiet argument, hushed voices declaring their disagreement. He ignored them both, rifling around in the cupboard until his fingers grazed upon a box of crackers. A tug pulled it free and he returned to the couch with it, taking out a sleeve and offering it to the shivering man beside him. Tord shook his head, idly reaching for the remote. Matt frowned at how his fingers seemed to vibrate. 

Edd came in with a piece of peanut butter toast, holding it out to Tord with a soft look. “I put honey on it. I hope you still like it like that.”

“I am not hungry.” The norsk grumbled, pulling the blanket up around his neck and turning on a rerun of some stupid sitcom. 

Matt took the plate, holding it in case Tord actually wanted it. “You really need to eat.” Edd frowned at the norsk. “You didn’t eat anything yesterday and you barely ate dinner the night before.” 

The worry was apparent to anyone who had the mind to listen for it. “He’s got a point you know,” the blue eyed man glanced around, noting Tom’s conspicuous absence as he spoke. 

“I ate some canned corn last night so I am okay.” Matt was tempted to reach out and feel his temperature. Maybe the diminutive man was sick or something. It was extremely likely, considering that he never took care of himself. 

Edd cleared his throat. “There’s the same number of cans this morning as there was yesterday morning Tord. Don’t lie to me.” Matt made a confused face at the brunet, not knowing if he was serious. 

“How observant of you, Edward.” There was the dripping venom, the thing that always was on Tord’s tongue right before a fight broke out. The vampire winced and inched away. 

“Dammit Tord! You can’t come back here and try to kill yourself you know!” Edd exploded, barely taking himself down a notch before continuing. “If you want to stay here this you’ll answer to me. I don’t want to but if you keep doing this…” He let the threat hang in the air, unable to find something to say fast enough to suit his needs. 

“It is not like I chose to be here. I would much rather be fucking dying in peace but no. I have to sit here and be a burden to everybody.” Matts eyes widened and he stared at the huddled up little norsk. 

“Tord-“ the ginger couldn’t find anything to say, mind grasping uselessly for words that weren’t there. 

“If you didn’t want to come here then why’d you come back?” Edd’s voice was much to quiet. He should have been yelling, but instead he whispered, and it was somehow more terrifying than when he had been yelling earlier. “Don’t bullshit me and say that you missed us, because if that were true you would have come back years ago.”

“I have missed you. I just was-“ he hid his face, suddenly seeming like a little kid. “I do not want to talk about it.” 

“I’m not screwing around Tord. Why did you come back?” Matt saw that Edd was starting to lose his temper. 

“I said I did not want to talk about it.” Tord said in a small voice that made the ginger want to pull him into his lap and comfort the norsk. 

Edd was clenching and unclenching his fists, obviously trying to cool down but still boiling over. “You come back here. You treat yourself like shit and then get mad at us for trying to keep you healthy. And you don’t want to talk about it?”

“Yes.” The small man whispered. 

“I’m not accepting that as an answer.” Edd stepped forward and grabbed Tord around his upper arms a little too roughly and sat him upright. “What the fuck is going on with you Tord? You can’t even look me in the eye half the time.”

Matt all but jumped away, sitting at the other end of the couch now and oh god Tord was shaking. “Edd I think-“

The norsks voice cracked as he spoke. “Please let me go please.” The words sounded foreign coming from Tord, weak and pitiful and pleading. His face was screwed up in a mask of terror, an expression that was much too extreme for the situation.  

“Tord i need you to fucking talk to me for once because I don’t know what to think!” Edd sounded one part angry and one part- scared, which only made the situation more twisted as the norsk started to struggle in the brunet’s grip. 

Finally, Matt spoke up. “Edd, back off now. Look at him.” He stood and firmly pushed the man back, getting between him and Tord. “You need to calm down.” 

“Matt what the hell?” He refused to budge, looking the vampire straight in the eye. 

“I need you to take a moment. And back off of Tord. You’re scaring him.” Matt answered, his voice low in his throat. He wedged himself between the two, more forcefully this time, and turned around to kneel in front of the clearly distressed Norsk. Tord was wheezing shallow, quick breaths and his eyes were glassy. The sight was chilling for the ginger. 

Carefully, he grabbed the blanket from before and draped it over the small man, who clutched it to himself. Matt smelt the now more distinct tang of blood and frowned, but didn’t ask, afraid to push Tord closer to a breakdown. 

Edd threw his hands up in the air. “Are you really taking his side right now Matt? I’m just trying to help him because I care. You hear that, Tord? I still care about you, even after all of this shit. I want you to talk to me. That’s all.” Some of the man’s anger had dissipated, but he was still plenty pissed enough to scare the trembling man more. 

“Edd. Excuse me but will you shut the fuck up?” Matt turned and hissed out at the brunet. He got a stunned silence in return that satisfied him, so he turned back to the norsk and started to soothe him. “Tord. Hey Tord can you focus on me?”

A head shake was all he got in response, but it was better than nothing. “Can I touch you?” Another nonverbal ‘no’ followed. Matt felt a cold stone form in his chest as he watched the smaller man’s shoulders shake. “Do you want us to leave you alone?” The tiniest nod gave him the incentive to get up and grab Edd’s wrist, dragging him away harshly. 

They stopped in the kitchen, just out of eyeshot of the couch.”Matt…” the brunet was still visibly pissed, but at least he had taken the volume down. 

“What, Edd?” the vampire said in an exasperated tone, peeking around the corner to check on Tord, who was huddled back up on the couch and still shaking. 

“I’m sorry… I just- it scares me. This is  _ Tord _ we’re talking about here. He turned down fucking spaghetti night. He loves spaghetti enough to kill somebody for it.” he looked like he needed a drink. There was a long pause where Edd just rubbed at his face and calmed himself down. “Matt he’s-  _ different _ and- fuck this is hard to watch.”

“We can’t help him if he doesn’t want to be helped,” the freckled man reminded him.

“I’m not going to accept that.” Edd replied, face hardening. “I don’t care if I have to force food and pills and everything down his throat I- I can’t let him do this to himself.” 

Matt sat in thought for awhile, “He said it wasn’t his choice to come here- maybe somebody…” he didn't really know what to think about that. “There’s no way that he’s going to let you force him into things, as different as he is he’s still a stubborn jackass.”

“He was my best friend once; I can get him to do anything.” There was a determined set in Edd’s features. 

“Once,” the other agreed wistfully. It had been simpler times, from what he remembered. Most of his mortal life was a bit blurred and hazy, leading to some confusion on what had happened when. Luckily he was beginning to pick up on memories of Tord. 

“How’s he doing?” Edd asked finally, leaning against the counter. 

The vampire leaned over to look at the couch to see that Tord appeared to be asleep. “You scared him. Bad.” Matt sighed. 

“I- I know…” he closed his eyes. “He really is different; I mean, it used to be fun to fight with him in a way. Now he’s so  _ scared  _ all the time and I don’t know what to do.”

“I don’t know either…” He trailed off, trying to think of the best way to approach the problem. “You need to apologize to him if we’re going to get anywhere.”

Edd snorted softly, “Do you really think an apology is going to make this any better?” he looked oddly annoyed. “Tord doesn’t listen to soft feelings shit. He fights and argues and-” he stopped, pulling his hair out of his face and scrubbing his fingers through it. “It’s not right for him to be scared, it’s not Tord.”

“It’s not the same Tord you used to know. He’s different.” Matt explained softly. He was really thanking himself for his nursing skills after all of this. 

“I still don’t know why he came here just to- do this.”  

“An apology can’t hurt anything Edd. You know that. If he gets angry about it then you can pretend it's the same old Tord. If not, he might trust you more.” He leaned against the counter. 

“So you want me to apologize to him for caring about him?”

“Edward I swear to fuck if you don’t drop your asshole act right now I’ll suck you dry. You’re not above apologizing to him. It’s not going to hurt you to say you’re sorry.” The thin veil of patience the pale man had been wearing evaporated as his anger got the best of him.

“It’s not  _ like  _ that Matt, He doesn’t  _ work  _ like that.” he growled, straightening and letting out a puff of air. “I’ll do it, just don’t think this is gonna fix anything.” 

He wasn't calming down anytime soon, that was obvious. Matt was still in disbelief that the brunet had lost his temper in the first place. The brown eyed man all but stormed out, leaving the ginger to peer out out at the couch to see Edd rubbing his temples. The sofa was absent of any small norwegians, and Edd was clearly annoyed. “Great I scared him off.”

“Whenever he comes back around you still have to apologize. Don’t think you’re getting out of this that easy. He must need some time.” 

“If you say so Matt. Do you want to make breakfast? I’m going to shower and cool off.”

The vampire nodded, watching his friend go and then turning to the kitchen. He couldn’t help but feel like this was just the beginning. 


	5. Chapter 5

Edd didn’t see Tord for the rest of that day. Whenever he asked Matt, the ginger would say that he was safe and being taken care of, but it wasn’t satisfying for the brunette. He occasionally lingered outside Matt’s room, listening for any hints, but there was little to hear. Any other time was spent listlessly trying to work and then getting distracted by worrying about Tord. Eventually, he resigned himself to plop on the couch and watch mindless television.  Tom joined him for awhile before he invited Matt out shopping. 

It was about five in the afternoon when he finally shoved himself out of his dent in the couch. He tried to plan what to say as he walked the short distance and knocked on the door of the room where Tord was holed up. “Go away.” Was the only response he got. 

Inhaling deeply, the brunet pressed his friend. “Tord, I need to talk to you. I want to apologize for losing my temper.”  _ And ask you what happened.  _

“It is fine.” For somebody that obviously didn’t want any company, Tord didn’t seem very assertive. 

Edd ran his hands through his hair. “What if I brought you a cup of coffee?” It was quite the limb to go out on, but the norsk seemed to love the disgusting stuff. 

A soft silence drew out for awhile, finally ending when Tord agreed to the truce. Soon enough, Edd was sitting at the end of the bed while Tord sipped at his mug. “You do not need to apologize, Edd. I know what happens when I push you too far.” He said, drink seeming to warm him. 

The bigger man looked at the stack of supplies on the nightstand. An untouched water bottle and a few pills stood out amongst food items. “No. I don’t have any excuse for being a dick. I’m not a kid anymore.” He sighed, dancing around the fact that he’d thrown his friend into a panic. 

Another long pause drifted in the air as they sat. “You have changed a lot. I guess I should not be surprised but- here I am.” There was a small bit of humor in Tord’s tone. 

Despite himself, Edd smiled, “I could say the same about you. You’ve really chilled out…” that wasn’t the best way to describe it, but he wanted to keep the conversation light for once. 

“Do you not get tired of Matthew and Thomas now? They are disgusting sometimes.” He smiled, looking at his once best friend. 

“Nah, I like the atmosphere around here. And I always have drawing to come back to.” The brunet shrugged, leaning back on the bed to relax. This wasn’t as bad as he’d thought. “I think it would’ve been better with you here though.”

He saw his friend’s eyes flick away. “I- I am sorry I was gone for so long Edd. There were things that happened and-“ a shuddering breath left the smaller man. “Life, i guess.” 

As if that was an adequate answer. Edd rolled his eyes and turned to face his friend. “Really?”

Tord didn’t look him in the eyes, instead staring into the depths of his mug. “I do not want to talk about it.”

“Fine. Can we talk about how we’re going to do this then?” The brunet sighed, looking away again. 

“Do what?” He asked softly. 

“This. Live together again. Things are obviously different now we have to figure out how to…. how to get you back up on your feet.” 

Tord had two modes, stoic or an open book. Right now, the sadness and hope and all the other feelings he had played across his face and flickered in his eyes. Edd could read him easily. “I know you have a lot of… needs that you don’t want to take care of. And I get it- fuck most of us have gone through that stage…. but we’re here for you. We want you to get better.”

He rubbed the material of the blankets between his fingers, letting Tord process what he’d said. “It’s honestly terrifying to see these things happen. Not knowing makes it worse. I don’t know how to explain how worried I was when I found your pills, or when I couldn’t get you eat fucking spaghetti.” He wheezed a little in emphasis and continued. “You don’t… have to tell me about everything, but I want to know how to help at least. Tell me what makes you uncomfortable, talk to me about your food thing. Anything, really.”

“Edd…”

“We were best friends once, Tord. It can be that way again if you just open up a little.”

The Norsk swallowed audibly, hands a little unsteady as he thought through what Edd was saying. After awhile, the brunet finally met Tords green eyes and saw the swirling doubt in them. “I have missed you, so much” was the first thing the norsk said. 

A shallow breath left Tord. “I am sorry about- all of this. I honestly did not intend to come back but my… friends thought I could not handle the stress at our work.”

Edd nodded, scooting closer to his friend. “Do you want to be here?”

The response was immediate. “Yes. I do. There is just so  _ much.” _

“I can help you cope Tord. We’ve always helped each other. Remember? You used to make me shitty ramen when I wouldn’t leave my room. And we used to sit in the locker rooms together after you got in trouble and couldn’t stand being outside.” He closed his eyes in memory, reaching to put his hand on Tord’s leg. 

The man twitched slightly, but otherwise didn’t object. “Edd this is  _ different _ .” He whispered softly, curling around his mug and getting glassy eyed again.

Immediately, he worked to correct his meaning. “I just want to help- you don’t have to tell me everything yet. All I need is to know how to make this better for you.” Maybe Matt was rubbing off on him, he thought as he rubbed his thumb along Tord’s leg.

The Norsk looked like he was thinking of retreating, his fingers trailing on the lip of the mug for awhile before he sighed. “What do you want to know?” 

Edd smiled softly and caught Tord’s eye. “How about you start with the meds. Those were some serious drugs you were toting around.” he tried to keep the tone lighthearted to avoid making the smaller man feel like he was being interrogated.

“I guess you know what they are… I am bipolar.” he let out another deep breath, closing his eyes. “And I am psychotic, but we all knew that.” 

“What do you mean psychotic, Tord?” the brunet pressed softly,

Tord inhaled sharply, “Hallucinations, panic attacks… the general things you assume when you hear someone is psychotic.”

Touchy subject, then. He moved onto another point. “What about not eating?” 

That was another thing that Tord didn't want to talk about. The bigger man nudged indiscernibly closer, feeling that familiar worry build in his chest. Finally, the Norsk softly said, “I just do not… I do not like to eat.”

Edd swallowed down the worry that spiked, “Tord I hope you know that’s a pretty scary thing to say and leave like that.” It was fairly unsettling how delicate his friend was. 

A deadpan gaze was the response Edd was given. The commie gathered some blankets to his chest, curling into himself. “Anything else?”

Edd sighed softly, taking his hand away, “You’ve changed so much Tord- I want you to talk to me. It’s not exactly hard to tell that something bad happened to you, and it clearly has affected you.” his voice was less warm, but not without empathy.

Tord’s gaze flicked down, back to the coffee. The brunet almost thought he saw the mug start to shake as the norsk said quietly, “Please, Edd.” 

He watched his friend carefully, hating how vulnerable he seemed. Tord curled up tighter, fixing his blankets so they covered more of him. After some time of awkward silence, Edd finally gave up, standing and turning to look at the smaller man. “This isn’t over, Tord. I’m gonna go start dinner now.”

He wasn’t graced with any sort of response, so he walked out of the room, closing the door a little too forcefully. Tord was stubborn still, and it infuriated Edd. The brunet scrubbed at his face with his palms and resisted the urge to yell. Even if Tord still was as annoying as eight years ago, he was also much more delicate. Seeing someone so strong like that… it was scary. Finally, he left Matt’s room behind, his worry hardening into determination.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tord doesn't get to be happy ;-;  
> Also if you like leave a comment! I'm always up for constructive criticism.

Matt came back late to the smell of tacos and a very quiet Edd. He quietly slipped through the house to his room, peeking in to see Tord sound asleep. After a quick change into pajamas, he nudged the norsk awake and went out to eat. His plate was waiting on the counter for him to grab and take to the couch. He settled next to Edd, who was already there, with a huff of breath. “How was today?”

The brunet looked at Matt wearily, “I don’t know what to  _ do,  _ Matt. He’s so-”. He dug the heels of his palms into his eyes.

Frowning, the vampire turned to face him all the way, “Did you try to talk to him? How did it go? Is he okay?”

“Yes, I tried to go talk to him and it was shit. He barely even acknowledged me- not to mention he only vaguely answered my questions.” he gestured wildly, getting his point across aggressively. “He’s so fragile and I might hurt him but I need to know these things.”

Matt sat back, munching his taco thoughtfully, “Did you get anything out of him?”

The other man sat in thought for a moment before slowly nodding, “I think he has an eating disorder of some sort. I mean it was obvious but the way he acted… I can’t think of anything else to explain it.” he slumped into himself. “Not to mention his bipolar got worse, and he said something about hallucinations…” Edd looked over to his friend with pleading eyes.

“I don’t know what to do.” 

Matt looked down at his taco, sighing, “I don’t know either, but… I think we can get through this.”

With that, the conversation ended, and Edd reached for the tv remote to turn on some superhero movie. Matt sunk into the couch and settled in, mowing his way through the food until the world turned dark. Eventually, Tom emerged from the depths of his room, grumbling about a late night shift and already gulping at a familiar flask. Nobody mentioned it, instead opting to settle into their old ways from before Tord came back.

Tom finally stopped to eat his own tacos, sitting down between the two friends with a sigh. “How was work?”

“Same as usual. Sometime soon I have to draft an animation for a commercial.” he took a long drink from his cola. “Can you get me a new can when you get up?”

The brit made a face, “Why don’t you get your own?”

“Because you haven’t done chores today.” 

With a loud groan, Tom pushed off the couch and grabbed the empty can. “Fuck you, Edd.” 

“Okay Tom, and clean up the kitchen while you’re at it. Oh! And bring the rest to Tord, he’s been hiding all day like you in Matt’s room.” Edd smiled back at his friend, and Matt snorted softly. This was better. 

 

Tom stared at the door to Matt’s room, a plate held tightly in his hand. He didn’t want to go in. He didn’t want to see the commie’s stupid smug face and remember how he woke up alone. 

Sighing, he knocked. A grunt sounded from behind the door and the brit curled his lip. “What is it?” he heard a sleep-slurred voice ask.

“I have your dinner Tord, Edd told me not to leave until you eat at least one taco and take your meds.” he drawled, tapping his foot in barely contained impatience.

To his surprise, the door opened to reveal a very rumpled norsk who peered up at Tom, “How about skip the meds and we have a deal?” His voice was hoarse and his eyes were slightly puffy, but the taller man didn’t bother to mention it.

“We’ll see about that.” he pushed into the room and went to sit on the bed, Tord following after as he held out the plate of tacos. “Have you eaten today?”

The norsk didn’t answer, instead taking the plate and looking at it in distaste. “I do not see you often around here, Thomas.”

Tom scowled, looking over how the smaller man hunched into himself and always kept his limbs tucked in, like he was trying to become even tinier. “I work two jobs now, I’m a busy bloke.”

Nodding, Tord picked up a taco. “Things have changed quite a bit… I mean look at you.”

His scowl deepened and he unconsciously sat up straighter so his stomach stuck out less. “Coming from you?

An empty laugh filled the air as Tord looked back up at Tom, giving the brit a full view of sunken cheeks and blank eyes. Some part of him wanted to hold the norsk close and make him better but another, louder part merely said that he deserved whatever he got. The norsk had one corner of his mouth quirked up as he responded, “I think I have a good excuse though.”

“Just shut up and eat your taco, I have work soon.”

“Is money really that tight around here? We never used to work when I lived here.”

“We got in some trouble a few times, Edd is paying reparations on getting half the neighborhood destroyed.”

“Do I want to know?”

Tom shook his head with a sigh, “Like you said, a lot of things have changed.”

The norsk hummed noncommittally, “Do I really have to eat this? I am not hungry.”

“That’s rubbish Tord, eat the fucking taco.”

He dropped his head to look at the offending food, making a pitiful noise and Tom instantly felt contrasting satisfaction and guilt. Tord really was different now. The brit frowned and put his hand on his once-friend’s thigh. “What’s gotten into you commie?” 

Tord stiffened under the touch and bowed his head down even more, “It has… been a long few years, Thomas.”

“It has. So, what have you been up to to have all this happen?”

“I-I do not know what you mea-”

“You know exactly what I mean. You’re thin as a piece of paper and you won’t eat. You get panic attacks the minute someone raises your voice and you have mood swings worse than normal. And that’s saying something.” Tom’s voice was cold, betraying the anger that roiled in his gut. 

Tord shook slightly under his hand, body tensed and ready for action. “Tom I can’t.”

He grunted, standing up suddenly. “Can’t what? Can’t be a good friend? Can’t give me an explanation why you fucking left like that? Can’t own up to the fact that you’re plotting something and going to fuck us all over like you always do? What can’t you do you fucking commie?.”

Tord’s head jerked up and Tom could see that his eyes were glazed with unshed tears.”I am sorry.” his voice shook along with his body, emotions obviously overwhelming him.

The brit glared down at the norsk, taking in the sad sight before finally turning on his heel and slamming the door. He stormed past Edd and Matt, yanking his keys off the rack. “Tom? What’s going on?” he heard the brunet ask, almost shrill.

“Nothing, Edd. I’m going to work.” he was quick to get out, slamming the door shut behind him and speeding away.


	7. Chapter 7

Tord stared at the door for a few moments, feeling any hope in his chest die along with Tom’s presence. He set aside the plate and slowly crawled back into his makeshift nest of blankets, resisting the tears that insisted on coming. Maybe it was too unrealistic to expect Tom to talk to him, let alone forgive him or take him back. He buried his face into the blankets, silently wishing for them to suffocate him.

The door creaked open softly and he heard someone walk up to the bed. It dipped next to his feet, followed soon by a- “Are you okay?”. Matt.

He sighed, poking his head out of the blankets and looking at the ginger. “I am fine Matthew, just tired.”

His friend frowned and set his hand on Tord’s form, “It doesn’t seem like that. Did Tom snap at you again?”

The norsk stared blankly into those blue eyes for a few moments before slowly nodding.

“I’m sorry about that. He has quite the temper nowadays.”

Nodding again, he gathered the blankets around himself and slowly sat up, “Does he really hate me?”

Matt looked hesitant, his eyes darting to the side, “I can’t really tell… my memory is still shotty and that’s... The one thing he won’t talk to me about.” 

Tord pressed his lips together, scooting closer to the vampire silently.

“He usually tells me everything, I mean, sometimes he still has his secrets but he and I are close and this just-” he shook his head and looked to the norsk again. “I’m sorry.”

“It is okay. I know it is hard to feel like the person you love is hiding things from you.” he said solemnly, taking a moment to test the waters before finally pressing into Matt’s side. It still hurt to think that the ginger hardly remembered him, but it was nice to be close to him like he used to. “You sound like you need a break, just some time to relax.” 

Matt furrowed his brows, thinking for a moment before agreeing in silence. “It has just been hard around here since…”

“Since I came back. I know.” he sighed before jerking his mood back up, “Do you still do your beauty stuff when you are stressed?”

“How did you- oh, yeah. I do.” The ginger said sheepishly.

Tord gave a small smile, “How about we do that? You used to love to do that to me, since you could not get Edd or Thomas to.” there was a touch of humor in his voice that was already lifting Matt’s spirits.

“Yeah! That sounds good Tord.” the ginger’s eyes brightened and he got up off the bed. “Come on, I have my stuff in the bathroom.”

The norsk dutifully followed, shucking off his protective shell of blankets and leaving the food untouched. Matt peeked out the door before taking Tord’s hand and leading him to the bathroom just a little ways away. They slipped in without ceremony and immediately the taller man started pulling bags out from underneath the sink. “It’s been awhile since I’ve gotten to do this with work and all. Tom sometimes let me do it now but he gets this grumpy look on his face when I do anything besides something we would wear in high school.” he rolled his eyes and opened up a bag to reveal an array of nail tools. “Sit there, I’m about to work my magic!”

Tord couldn’t help but grin a little as he sat on the lid of the toilet and Matt set a half filled bucket of soaking water for his hands on his lap. It had been a little over eight years since the last time the ginger had given him one of the notorious makeovers, it was hard to not be giddy about finally getting to be close. “Let us see if you have improved over all these years.”

Matt was quick to wash the norsk’s face, pushing his hair back with a headband. “I sure hope so, I need it with your face.” the ginger snarked, moving to take one of Tord’s hands. “And your hands! It feels like you were doing manual labor for a century!” 

Tord wrinkled his nose, “You could say that.” he watched with idle curiosity while Matt began to rub some expensive looking lotion into his skin. 

“I’m in the nursing program now, you know.”     

“Really? I thought you were dead set on becoming a cosmetologist.”

The ginger shook his head, focusing on the meat of Tord’s palm, “When the… vampire incident happened a lot of things changed for me. I found a friend who was a doctor that helped people like me. The rest just- followed. Yeah?” he seemed too solemn for a moment, but then he was back up again.

“Do you mind me asking how you got changed?” the norsk asked softly, watching as Matt’s nimble fingers worked the muscles of his palm.

“Just poking my nose where it didn’t belong. You know.” he shrugged and took Tord’s other hand, “What about you? I hardly remember why you left, and you keep being so mysterious about things.”

A small pair of nail clippers was produced and the blue eyed man began to work away at the misshapen forms presented to him while Tord looked away. “I left to explore my career as an inventor more. It went fairly well I would say, but it took a lot to get where I have my company now.”

“You have an entire company? Wow.” Matt said in wonder, squinting in focus at his job. “What’s it called.”

“Uh… Red… tronics.”

The ginger laughed. “Catchy, at least.” 

Tord snorted, raising an eyebrow as Matt fetched a bottle of purple nail polish. “Yes, It took a lot of blood sweat and tears, but we are finally starting to do well.”

“What kind of things do you make?” Matt peered up at him with his blue eyes and Tord scrambled to think.

“I make- um- robots!” 

“Robots?” he tilted his head.

“Ah, yes, robots. For manufacturing and things. The profits go to my fun projects, yes?”

“Oh you mean like the arms that make computers? That’s cool, Tord!” 

The ginger’s excitement was so genuine, even borderline annoying, that it bled over to the norsk. He smiled and waved a painted hand. “I think so as well, it is nice that things are finally going well.”

Nodding, Matt finished the last of the paint and sat back on his heels. “So… I have a question.”

The energy in the room seemed to shift slightly, throwing Tord off. “What is it?”

“Did you and Tom have a bad breakup?”

He stiffened, avoiding the vampire’s gaze. “Why do you ask?” his voice was low, betraying the discomfort he felt.

Matt got up and sat on the side of the bathtub, trying to catch Tord’s eye again, “He can’t even look you in the eye, and he gets so angry… There has to be a reason for all of this.”

Sighing, he steeled himself to meet his friend’s gaze. “Thomas and I… never got along well, you know.” Matt thought for a moment and slowly nodded, so Tord continued, “We were not so much lovers as- well you can assume.”

He felt a twinge of pain in his chest as the ginger’s expression shifted to something sadder, hesitant to keep going. “I was cruel to him, Matthew. We were becoming something more and I left and he has every right to be mad at me.” he said in a rush, looking down at his hands.

A long silence stretched between them, allowing the guilt to fully settle into Tord’s bones and weigh him down. It seemed like they would just stay like this, quiet and accusing. Finally, he felt a hand rest on his thigh, and a soft voice cut through the air, “You hurt him, but there is something wrong with his actions, Tord. Tom should know better than to let his anger get the best of him. And now is not the time for him to take things out on you.” his hand then moved to take the norsk’s. “You’re going through a lot right now, you don’t deserve all this anger.”

Tord took a shaky breath, squeezing Matt’s hand to feel it move with him. He didn’t have anything to say, there were too many things going through his head and confusing him. The ginger squeezed his hand back and pulled back, checking his phone. “It’s late, do you want to go to bed?”

Shaking his head, the norsk stood awkwardly, finally looking back at Matt, who seemed too solemn to really be Matt. The ginger thought for a moment before asking, “Would you sleep if we slept together? In my bed?”

Tord was slightly taken aback, looking for sincerity in those blue eyes, “It is alright, you do not have to…”  _ You’ll scare him off. Hurt him like you did Paul. _

Scoffing, Matt took the norsk’s arm gently, “I like having a cuddle buddy anyways.”

The smaller man wasn’t allowed to object. They left behind the halfway-cleaned mess in the bathroom and went to Tord’s makeshift blanket nest. Matt was eager to hop onto the mattress and smile, “You look tired.” 

“I am not tired.” he retorted, climbing on next to the ginger. 

“No matter. You never seem to sleep anyways so now is your time to catch up.”

The norsk laid down, tucking himself into the sheets a few inches away from his companion, who seemed disappointed. Tord made a face of confusion just before he was wrapped up in the steady embrace of the vampire. He stifled a noise, looking up at Matt, _ You don’t deserve this. You need hurt and hate and the barrel of a gun to your skull,  _ who smiled and settled close. “Rest, Tord.”

Reluctantly, the norsk nodded and got comfortable, feeling the inevitable fatigue hit him like a truck. Matt’s cold yet soothing presence was the ultimate sedative, lulling him into the first deep sleep that Tord had in awhile.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never realized how popular this would be! Thank you for leaving comments and kudos! I’ll have the next chapter out ASAP. But for now ~flashback~  
> TW: imprisonment, alcohol mention, violence, restriction of movement, talk of hunger/starvation

He didn’t know how long it had been since he’d been caught, or since he’d eaten, one since the door opened. He pressed himself into the corner of the cell, shackles dangling loosely from his wrists. It couldn’t have been that long, maybe a month. He wasn’t completely emaciated, though his muscles were starting to deteriorate. His train of thought slipped to the gnawing hunger. Maybe he was going to die soon.

There was a loud bang as the door suddenly flew open. He curled tighter into himself, hiding his face with his body as the distinctive footsteps of his captor drew closer. “Sit up and look at me bitch.” He growled out in Russian, kicking the prone form on the floor.

Tord wheezed, his chest rattling, and hesitantly pushed himself up so he could face the older man with dim eyes. “I do so much for this fucking division and this is the thanks I get.” His words bounced off of the dazed tord, leaving him confused until he was suddenly seized by his overgrown hair and thrown.

The shackles halted his momentum before he met the wall, making him cry out pitifully even as the scabs on his wrists were reopened. Tord vaguely realized he couldn’t afford to lose the blood running down his arms, but then he was hoisted up and pinned to the wall. “-Make them my Bitches the stupid rich pricks” The small norsk gasped for breath, chains rattling as he grabbed for the hands around his neck.

Once his vision went spotty with lack of oxygen, he was dropped with a grunt. “Why do I insist on keeping this sad thing? It reeks.” The man said to nobody, looking down at Tord.

The Norsk pushed up, gasping and coughing. “Punching bag” He wheezed, he’d been well aquatinted with the anger of not only but his captor but some subordinates as well.

“You are not even that, not even a man you little thing.” The officer sneered, crouching down. “Remind me of a woman, all talk and no bite.”

He resisted the urge to spit blood in the man’s face, scowling. “Let me out and I will show you bite”

Scoffing, he grabbed Tords hair again. “The only reason you are alive is because you are more entertaining than some new private. I could even venture to say your endurance is admirable.” His breath stank of vodka, the scent curling in the norsks face sickeningly. They watched eachother for a few moments, and eventually the older man pulled him up to his feet. “It has been a long time since I have seen my whore. They are not allowed near soldiers, you know?”

Tord struggled to stay on his feet, feeling nauseous and faint. “She must be happy”

“There is that fire! Such big words for a little boy.” The norsk felt the hand yank at his hair. “I figured out why I kept you” there was a sadistic smile on his face, and Tord realized that there was something worse than the cold or the hunger


	9. Chapter 9

    Matt couldn’t help but watch the norsk, having nothing else to do but study his features while he slept. From what he could remember, Tord was a deep sleeper, impossible to stir unless it was with bacon. Now, the smaller man trembled in his sleep, occasionally muttering something foreign and even tossing and turning at one point. It took more than a little soothing to get him to settle, Matt would rub his back and shush softly until finally he would relax.

    From this point, the vampire could study his face, see the stress lines and signs of dehydration. He could even just peek under the norsk’s clothes- but he shouldn't. Matt shook his head once again and looked to the digital clock by his bed. Still a few hours until sunrise. Sighing and bringing his hand up, he traced a scar that was notched into Tord’s cheek.

    It was a pain to take care of the norsk- that was the best word the ginger could use to describe it- anyways. On one hand, it was obvious to everybody around him that Tord couldn’t care for himself. He needed a near constant watch and someone to make him eat, someone to take his attention when he got that far away look in his eyes. On the other hand, he was a moody nuisance that always smelled faintly of blood, just enough to set the half-starved vampire on edge.

    Matt frowned and found his hands trailing down to Tord’s sleeves again, curiosity plucking at his train of thought. There had to be injuries- maybe self harm? The vampire frowned as he finally tugged up the edge of the red sweater a few inches, revealing an expanse of ugly scarring that seemed to scoop out the flesh of the norsk’s wrist. He flicked his gaze up to Tord’s face, careful as he took the hand into his own and examined it. The scarring circled about his entire wrist, dark with sharp edges. There was no blood- it seemed to be healed entirely- but the sight was still chilling. The norsk whimpered in his sleep and stirred, tugging his arm enough to make Matt release it and pull back. He felt guilty for looking, and now he felt a lump form in the pit of his stomach. “What happened to you.” he said impossibly soft, studying Tord’s face a little while longer before finally pulling the smaller man close to rest, protected from whatever might want to hurt him.

    The last few hours ticked by, Matt staying still the entire time until he finally felt it was time to wake the norsk up. He shook Tord by the shoulder and smiled as he turned over and groaned into the pillow, “It is too early Matt.”

    “We went to sleep at ten last night, we can wake up at eight.” he batted playfully and rolled out of the sheets. “I’m ready to do things Tord!”

    Groaning again, he pushed himself up and looked at the ginger with cold eyes. “That does not mean I am.”

    “Yes it does.” he rolled his eyes and moved to the door, poking his head out of the room to see if anybody else was up. “I need to shower, can you make breakfast today?”

    A short pause followed his question before the norsk answered, “If you do not mind char, then yes.”

    Matt laughed and turned back to wink at his friend, “I don’t mind char if it’s made by my Tord.”

    Another drawn out groan assured him that everything was alright before he slipped out and went to the shower. One nice thing about being a vampire- hot showers are optional- and that could be a great blessing in a house full of people. The ginger cranked on the water and spent a few minutes examining his eyebrows before getting in.

    He was just about to finish conditioning his hair when he heard it. A loud clang rang throughout the house, followed by a familiar, “Faen! Fittetryne!”.

    Matt leapt out of the shower inhumanely quick, pulling on his briefs and skidding into the kitchen. He found Tord on the floor of the kitchen, clutching his hand to his chest with a clear wince on his face. A skillet with half-cooked eggs was upside down next to him. The vampire kneeled down next to him, worry evident in his voice, “What happened, Tord?”

The norsk hissed and turned away, muttering a little, “I forgot that the skillet needs a potholder.”

Matt held his hand out, feeling disappointment at himself creep in. He shouldn’t have left him alone. Slowly, he was given Tord’s hand to examine. A nasty burn was blazed across his palm, already puffy and painful looking. A soft gasp left him as he hastily helped the smaller man up and to the sink, shoving the burn under a stream of cold water. “Tord I cannot believe this. This could be a third degree burn!” He couldn’t help but rub the Norsk’s back in comfort, “Does it hurt too badly? We can go in to the doctor and-“

“Fuck no. It is fine Matthew.” Tord said in a low voice, face contorted in pain and the vampire only then remembered that much like Tom, the sheer mention of a doctor was repellent to Tord.

“Alright  then, I think we have some burn cream so stay here.” Matt said slowly, turning to search the medicine cabinet.

Sure enough, there was still a tube of ointment from the time Tom gave himself a chemical burn fucking around with cleaning supplies. The ginger sighed and shook his head, resigning himself to wrapping the new mark on Tord’s body and making breakfast while the smaller man watched from his perch on the counter. He almost sniped at the Norsk for that, but thought better because there has been much worse in that counter. If he had a heartbeat, he would probably be blushing.

“So- what wounds good to you Tord?”

-

Tom once thought he would never wake up hungover on the floor of a sleazy bar again. But that was before the fucking commie showed up and messed things up again. He peeled his face from the floor, eyeing a mysterious chunky puddle beside him with distaste. Luckily, it seemed that the chairs around him were familiar. And this was reinforced when he dragged himself onto his feet and got a good look around. The sun was shining brightly through the drawn blinds, and the bartender, a snobbish blond with a buttchin so prominent that it looked like it hid a sphincter, watched him idly. “That’s the fourth time now, Tom. I thought you said you were done slumming about.”

“Fuckoff” He slurred back, reaching out as he approached the counter and proceeding to chug the water Mark gave him.

“I assume you don’t want word reaching Edd.”

“You assume correctly.” He looked at Mark pointedly, “you also assume that I need a tab from hereon out okay you ugly bloke?”

He rolled his eyes and nodded, going back to his work as Tom stumbled out and into the daylight. His head pounded and he shaded his eyes to look for his car, only to find it parked right in front of the bar. No wonder he felt like this, he must have hit it early.

Sighing, he took out his keys and fumbled to unlock the beater. Once inside, he let his head fall forward in a defeated manner, only for it to land right on the horn. The blaring noise made him jolt up and suddenly start the car, his startle driving him to zip off with a screech of his tires.

Home was only a half hours drive away, right outside of the smallish city where his favorite haunt was nestled. He sat in the driveway for too long, eyeing Tord’s pampered car with jealousy before finally slamming out and into the delicious smelling house.

His stomach growled immediately, and he stalked straight to the kitchen only to see the devil himself sitting on the counter like he was the king of the world. In reality, Tord was digging his palm into the counter to feel the resounding ache of a deep burn. Matt was cooking breakfast, bacon and French toast it seemed like. Tom steeped himself and walked in, wrapping his arm around his partner’s waist with a grunt. The vampire hummed and leaned up so Tom could plant a kiss on his cheek. The brit seemed to catch Tord’s eye now, though as soon as they looked at each other, the norsk was looking down at a bandaged hand. Smirking, Tom looked down at the food and felt his stomach rumble again. “I hope you’re making extra for me Mattie.”

“No love, you’re going to starve to death.”

The brunet groaned dramatically and crumpled in Matts arms, making the vampire take his entire weight. “Tom! You dramatic Bitch!” He laughed and lifted Tom up bridal style and spun about before setting him down. “Now bugger off I’m cooking.”

Smiling, the brunet leaned back against the wall and watched Tord curl into himself tighter, now pressing his thumb into the bandage. The smile remained. Maybe life with Tord back in the house could be good after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this may be getting slow- but after these next two chapters there’s going to be a little more fun, true to Eddsworld.  
> TW: Alcohol mention, burns, self injury, scarring, invasion of privacy


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A flashback to the last night. NSFW  
> TW: smoking, self harm (again), alcohol mention, sex under the influence, does sad as hell count?

 Edd and Matt went out to see a movie, some weird chick-flick thing that Tord had exactly zero interest in. He was left to lounge on the couch for a bit and stare at the television while his brain took the liberty of running away with his thoughts. It must've been some time that he'd sat there, because the stupid drunk made a comment about how long it was. Tord looked up to Tom, who's neutral expression quickly morphed into a slight frown as he met the norsk’s eyes. They just looked at each other for a while, and Thomas broke it with the simple declaration that he was going to get shitfaced. 

  Sinking into the couch, he watched the brit storm off to his room let the realization hit him. The longing hit him like a wave, memories of sweet soft sex that made his heart flutter. Of course there was the guilt, but this time it was different. Tord was struggling to decide, would he turn down Thomas tonight?

  To say that he was addicted to the nights where the Witness was drunk enough to say things that Tord was sure he would never say otherwise, to turn from rough and commanding to gentle, would be an understatement. The thing that really tore him though, was the fact that he knew he was leaving soon. On one hand, he wanted to have that one more time. On the other… he didn't want to think of it. 

 He pulled himself out of the slump in the couch, pulling out a cigar once he got outside. Puffing away at it, he lingered only long enough to watch the sun set and get the smoldering end close enough to burn. It was a strange impulse, the kind of thing that had been popping into his mind more and more often, that brought him to press the cigar into the back of his left hand. He hissed, gritting his teeth as the smell of burning flesh floated up to him. As soon as it started, he was left with a snub and a searing pain that sat too well in his gut.

  He was still undecided when he retreated to his room to go over his mounds of scribbles on graph paper. Plans and notes and pages of his funds balanced out on an endless amount of paper. All his most important things were already packed, tucked in a few boxes in the corner, but otherwise his room was the same as before. He couldn't take much where he was going. Bending over his desk, he reread everything with weary eyes that burned from fatigue until there was a knock at the door. 

  He took a good minute to push from his desk and open the door to a very hammered Thomas. “Hey commie,” was the only thing to come out of his mouth before he was pressing against Tord and kissing him oh so softly. In that moment, the sleep deprived man decided that he could have this one last good thing. 

  Tom pulled back to cup his cheek and ask in a whisper, “Can i?” 

  Looking over the drunkard, he saw that sometime between slinking off to his room and showing up there, he had slipped on a dress shirt and his trademark checkered tie, though now undone around his neck. Tord reached up to trace his features and felt his breath catch in his throat. “Of course Thomas.” 

  For a moment, the brit just stayed like that, thumb running down Tord’s cheek, but then he leaned down to suckle at the place, right under the norski’s jaw, that made his toes curl. Tord melted into his friend lover enemy and tilted his head to the side with a sigh. He felt the other man smile into his skin as he slipped his hands down to rest on the dip of his spine. 

  A moment later, he was being backed slowly to his bed, Thomas guiding him with soft touches to sit back on the mattress. “So beautiful,” he muttered as he loomed over him, only to get down on his knees. 

 Tord frowned in confusion as his pants were slipped off him in order to shower his thighs in kisses. Every touch of his lover’s lips left a tingling feeling on his skin, making him relax as Thomas took one of his legs and eased it to open the smaller man’s hips up to him. He proceeded to lap at Tord’s inner thighs and watch his partner give little gasps and moans, working his way up the expanse of skin. 

  As Tom looked up to give Tord that look, the one that meant to be his asking for permission because talking is too hard, the norsk found himself wondering if he had ever really had this from tom. He could remember endless times where he'd been ordered onto his knees or even Thomas sucking him off until he cried but, never this. 

  He nodded hesitantly, watching as he was 

stripped of his underwear, and then letting his jacket be pulled away. If Tom wasn't so drunk, he might've worried about the cuts and bruises and the changes in his body since he had last slept with the brit, but all he was focusing on was placing soft but firm kisses on the other. 

 A shiver rolled down his spine when a lasting kiss was placed on the head of his cock, and he closed his eyes closed with a soft, “ _ Thomas. _ ” 

 Hands rubbed the soft flesh of his thighs as he was lavished by Tom's tongue and mouth, milking whines and small noises from him. Fisting his hands in the sheets, he opened his eyes when he felt the mouth around him slowly start to take him in fully. Tom had his eyes closed as he lowered himself onto Tord’s cock, humming with that deep vibrato that made the smaller man’s arms prickle with goosebumps. Watching those lips wrapped around him, the soft crease of concentration on the Witness’ brow, everything about him, really in that moment, he felt that longing for every night they had together to be like this, that every time they saw each other he would get to hear the words Thomas uttered when he was too drunk to think. 

  The train of thought abruptly ended when he felt himself brush the back of the brits throat and he outright moaned. Beginning to bob, tom smirked around his cock and worked to get more sounds like that from the norski. Slowly, Tord felt his fears and sadness fall away under the pleasure and rush of sheer love he felt for this man. He relaxed under Tom's touch and let the sounds and words he felt on his tongue out. 

  Tom grew faster, twisting this way and that and using his tongue to make the other grow louder under him, finally pulling off once he had Tord panting and struggling to stay still. “I love you.” It was a simple phrase that had his head spinning as he was being nudged to lie fully on the bed, Thomas climbing up to trap him with his limbs.

 He started to say it back before he was halted by a deep kiss that felt like the most amazing kiss he had ever had, well, second to his first real one with the alcoholic drunk that he was undeniably in love with. Fluttering his hands over the buttons of Tom's dress shirt, he undid them and pressed against his chest softly. The kiss deepened, and the two pressed close together for friction, rubbing softly together.

  Finally, Thomas moved to pull his pants off and toss them aside, then teasing Tord’s undershirt off until they were both naked and searching for more sensation. The norski felt fingers thread into the hair at the base of his skull, moaning a “Please” when soft tugs made him shiver. He took his time mapping out his lover with his hands, committing everything to memory. Tom rolled his hips into the smaller man, letting out a small sound as he pulled Tord’s head back to open up his neck. Pulling the drunk closer, he whined and bucked up into the contact. 

 They were pressed together so close that it was almost suffocating, hands on bodies with every movement punctuated by small sounds and praise. Tord was losing his head in the euphoria, not even questioning the fact that his lover was clearly getting close without even fucking him. He tilted his head back to let out a keen that made Thomas growl and nip slightly at his neck. In the next moment, both of the other’s hands had moved to his hips to pin him down to the mattress and he felt Tom lapping at his neck yright as he ground roughly into him. The contact was a mere shadow of his past aggression, but it still made Tord squirm and whine. 

  He felt Tom shush him, the whisper of air brushing over his skin, and one hand moved from his hipbone to grasp at their cocks. A drawn out gasp punctuated the first time he pumped his hand as Tord found himself overwhelmed with sensation. The brit pulled up to capture his lips one more time while he drew close to his climax, swirling his tongue around in his partner’s mouth. 

  Arching up into the touch, Tord dug his fingers into Tom's back and gasped. Heat was building up in his stomach and all the friction made him see stars. Tom came with a sigh, Tord’s name falling from his tongue even as he kept pumping. Short whines resonated from both of them as he moved his hand faster to finish Tord, who was reduced to panting and jerking to meet him.

  The smaller man reached the edge, small pleads on his breath. Tom felt the difference and gave one final jerk, squeezing and twisting slightly despite the overstimulation. Keening, Tord came and wrapped his arms around his lover to pull him down, breathing slightly rushed as he rode out his orgasm. Finally, he buried his face into Tom's neck and whined as he was slowly moved to be nestled into the curves of his body. 

  The brit reached around for a stray rag, wiping himself off then reaching around to do the same for Tord, his touches soft and caring. Once they both were clean, Tom tangled his legs in the other and curled around him, his head coming to rest in the place between Tord’s neck and shoulder. A sigh made the hair by the norski’s ear flutter and he was pressed against the larger man’s chest in a vicelike grip. “I love you Tord.” Tom said softly as his breathing slowed to a crawl, falling into an easy sleep wrapped around the commie. 

  As soon as he was sure the drunk was asleep, he let out the words that were sitting in the base of his throat, “I love you too Thomas.”

 He spent a long time just basking in the feeling of Tom, resisting the urge to fall asleep and instead committing that moment to memory. It was in the small hours of the morning that he finally peeled away, standing to watch his love sleep. It was creepy, yes, but he didn't care anymore. This was it, no more. He would probably never see his friends after he left, he would never again have this, never again have a chance to say it.         Scooping up the brit, he grunted as he proceeded to struggle to his room and set him in bed, taking the extra care to tuck him in and even grab a glass of water for the hangover Tom was sure to have. It was hard to leave him, so hard. Even after he placed a whisper soft kiss on his cheek, he lingered at the door. He didn't want this to be the end. He hated endings; things didn't end! 

 Screwing his eyes shut, he pulled the knob behind him and said one last thing, “Until the end, Tom.”

  Back in his room, he slumped against the head of his bed and clutched at Tom's discarded clothes. Tears pricked at his eyes as he curled up in the exact position he was in minutes ago, imagining his love’s presence. It was over, done. He would never confess to Tom, he would never have the one thing he wanted. 

  The checkered tie was balled up in Tord’s fist, pressed against his heart and he made the decision to keep it, a memento since the stupid alcoholic had an absurd amount of them anyways. He choked on a laugh and settled down, fatigue pulling at his eyelids and forcing more tears out. There were defined tear tracks on his face, though unseen in the dark. 

 Sleep came easily to the norski, curled up tight and warm, though sleep wasn’t pleasant for him, not anymore. Not without his Thomas. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve actually had this chapter written for over a year now haha! Please excuse the change in writing, I wanted to get this up as a present for waiting so long.


End file.
